


Always Yes

by fanfoolishness (LoonyLupin), LoonyLupin



Series: Ouroboros: Aodhan Trevelyan X Dorian Pavus [7]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Kissing Day 2017, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:30:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/fanfoolishness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/LoonyLupin
Summary: Aodhan Trevelyan invites Dorian Pavus to Kirkwall for the city's annual Kissing Day festival, but faces consternation when it begins to rain.





	Always Yes

Aodhan groaned.   _Rain?  On Kissing Day?_

Aodhan stood at the window of the rather bad inn they had found, wrinkling his nose as he watched the rain sluice through the gray morning clouds.  They’d seen the clouds rolling in last night as they rode into town, but Aodhan, ever the optimist, had told Dorian they were sure to pass before the day’s festivities. Dorian had not been so optimistic.

Dorian chuckled, coming up behind him and kissing his shoulder.  “It’s a terrible burden, being right so often.”

“It’s a terrible burden, having to listen to an insufferable braggart,” said Aodhan mildly, but he turned from the misted window and kissed Dorian hard, catching the other man by surprise.  For a moment he lost himself in the kiss, Dorian’s mouth hot and slick beneath his own, but he pulled himself away before they could get too distracted.

“You injure me,” said Dorian, cheeks flushed.  He gazed out the window.  “It really does look wretched out there, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Aodhan admitted.  “Of all the luck!  I haven’t been to Kirkwall for Kissing Day since I was a boy, and now that I’ve finally someone to kiss on the occasion, the weather goes and does this.”  He fidgeted with the ends of his shirt sleeves, buttoning them.  “I don’t suppose you’d want to go out anyway and see if they’re attempting the festival despite the weather…  I know rain is possibly your least favorite weather condition, except when it’s snow.”

Dorian considered him carefully, a smile pulling up the sides of his mouth.  “It does do frightful things to my hair,” he said.  He glanced back at the tub in one corner of the room.  “Though, a long bath would sound much nicer after a long walk in the rain.  It’s quite a large tub.  There might even be room for two.”

“You don’t have to –”

“Aodhan,” said Dorian.  He reached out, stroking Aodhan’s hair back from his brow.  “You’ve talked of little else but this festival for weeks.  You worked with Josephine madly to to finish up vast sums of paperwork.  You’ve got the Chargers on extra security detail round Skyhold.  You’ve accounted for everything that might go wrong in our absence.  In short, you’ve planned this outing to within an inch of its life.  I for one am not going to be the reason we don’t see the festival, not after all that.”  He dropped his voice; Aodhan had to strain to hear him above the sounds of the rain outside.  “Besides, I’ve never done something like this before.”

Aodhan took Dorian’s hands in his own.  “A trip together, you mean.  Just the two of us.”

“Yes.  Tevinter can’t even bear the idea of two men together in the bedroom, let alone out and about on a jaunt to the seaside.”

“And the Circle wasn’t exactly keen to let me gallivant about for a romantic getaway.”

“I know.  It’s why I don’t mind the rain, or at least, not as badly as I might otherwise.”

“I think that sentiment deserves another kiss.”

“And I think you are a hopeless romantic.”

“Blast it,” Aodhan murmured, his lips pressed against Dorian’s.  “Right again.”

* * *

An hour later they huddled under an oilskin tent, jammed up in a line of sodden revelers.  They had seen only a few folk at first, hurrying beneath the rain, but as they approached the open market the streets had suddenly come alive with crowds.  Women with their braids frizzing from the moisture and their hair ribbons leaking dye mingled with children with smudged hearts daubed on their damp cheeks; embrium flowers tucked into cloaks or hair or beards beaded with water.  Men wore red-trimmed cloaks that looked nearly black with the weight of water, and Aodhan could hear their boots squelching as they shuffled in line.  Still, though, the children chattered eagerly to each other or to their parents, some of them waving enormous sticky red lollies, others singing off-key rhymes about kisses from Mum and kisses from Dad and kisses from the baker’s lad.  Rather than disgruntled, the atmosphere felt charged, thrumming with an energy from the crowd that was invigorating.

At last Dorian and Aodhan reached the front of the line, and with relief they bought copper mugs of steaming cider scented with peppery spindleweed and rich cinnamon.  They quickly left the cider stall and sought shelter beneath a less crowded tent, where a girl with red cheeks and thick knitted gloves bowed to them from behind a tray of flowers and ribbons.  “Flowers for your hair, sers?”

“Are you doing good business?” Aodhan asked, fingering a spray of embrium studded with Andraste’s grace, bent into a crown.   “Shame about the weather.”

The girl grinned at them.  “What d’you mean?  It rains at least every third year on Kissing Day.  It doesn’t stop us any.”

“So the festivities will be going on all day?” asked Dorian.

“Oh yes!  The great dances in the squares go off every hour.  Hightown’s is the prettiest, with nobles wearing all sorts of lovely masks and cloaks, and the grandest band, but I quite like ours in Lowtown too.  Lots more kids, and everyone yells and claps and laughs.  My old mum still trots her boots with the red silk laces out to dance every year, no matter the weather.”  The girl laughed, blushing.  “I even hear the elves dance round that tree they have, and it’s supposed to be lovely.  Now, I think you’d look dashing with ribbons on your shoulders, don’t you, ser?”  She held out a flowing bunch of red and gold ribbons streaming from a silk rosette to Dorian’s chest, and he smiled, pinning it to his shoulder so the ribbons cascaded over his chest and arm.

“You’ve a keen eye for fashion, miss,” said Dorian, sipping at his cider.

“He always looks stunning in gold,” Aodhan concurred.  “I’ll take the crown, thank you.”  He handed her three silvers, then bowed his head so that she could fasten the crown to his head with pins from her pocket.  He straightened back up again, the flowers resting comfortably atop his hair.  “What should we see next?”

“You might try the chocolatier stall down the way,” the girl said.  “My brother runs it.  Best chocolates this side of Orlais, and I’m not just saying that because he’s my brother.  He puts mint in some and cherries in others and this year he even found a way to make them with brandy in!  Might be nice for a bit of pick me up on a rainy Kissing Day, yes?”

“Say no more,” said Dorian.  “Point us to these brandy chocolates, they sound delightful.”

* * *

They tramped back into their room at the Hanged Man hours later, weighed down with soaking clothes and an exciting haul.  The bags at their sides carried copper mugs, as well as bags of chocolates and a few bottles of Marcher wine with red and gold ribbons round their necks.  A few bundles of tea, carefully protected against the rain, nestled in Aodhan’s coat.  

As soon as they reached their room and crossed the threshold Dorian rubbed his fingers together, flame springing from his palm.  He tossed the small flames to their lamps and candles, and conjured a larger flame to their fireplace, where an enormous tub of water had been prepared before they left.  Soon it was steaming merrily as they set about shedding their clothes.

“Ahhh,” Aodhan sighed, shimmying out of his trousers and tossing his tunic to the floor.  He dropped the smallclothes last and then flopped down on the bed, feeling slightly clammy now that he was nude.  It was but a moment until Dorian joined him, carefully removing the ribbons from his cloak and placing them, coiled, on the bedside table.  He stretched out along Aodhan, propped himself up on his elbow and chuckled.

“You forgot to remove your crown,” he said.  “You look quite stunning, wearing nothing else.”

“Oh, I’m sure I look silly,” said Aodhan, but when he sat up, he could see Dorian apparently found him arousing.  Aodhan felt a jolt in his belly at the sight.  “Ah.  You look rather magnificent yourself, you know.”

Dorian got to his knees and reached out, undoing the pins that fastened the flower crown to Aodhan’s head.  He set it down beside his own ribbons.  “Now that we’ve got that sorted,” he said, and finished the sentence with a crushing kiss, pulling Aodhan into his arms.

Aodhan pulled back, breathless.  “It’s a good thing I’ve got you here to warm me up,” he murmured, raining kisses over Dorian’s neck and throat, working his way down his chest.  

“Ah,” Dorian breathed, running his fingers down Aodhan’s back slowly, deliberately.  Aodhan’s tongue slipped out between his lips, tracing a long, curving path down Dorian’s chest and belly.  “You wretched man –” he began.  “That isn’t fair, and you know it.”

“Now, what’s Kissing Day without a bit of fun?” Aodhan asked.  Before Dorian could answer Aodhan closed his mouth over the tip of Dorian’s cock, gratified with a sudden gasp and a buck of Dorian’s hips.  

“Fair enough,” Dorian choked, closing his eyes and breathing through his mouth.  He leaned back into the bedcovers, his fingers curling.  “Oh, amatus, you feel incredible –”

Aodhan swirled his tongue along the shaft, sliding up and down, taking the other man deep into his mouth.   _Fuck_ , the noises Dorian was making… Aodhan gripped himself, his hand working his cock.  He panted, his breath hot around Dorian’s length.

Dorian groaned unintelligibly.  Aodhan, kneeling between his trembling legs, worked his hand and mouth over Dorian’s cock even as he attended to himself.  Dorian arched deeper into his mouth, the shaft throbbing.  Aodhan’s fingers jerked, his tongue curling and sliding, saliva slicking the pumping cock between his lips as Dorian moaned, the sound driving him mad with want.  With need.

And then Dorian stiffened, his moans changing to frantic half-gasped cries, hands scrabbling in Aodhan’s hair, and the taste of him filled Aodhan’s mouth.  Aodhan wasn’t long behind, gritting his teeth as he tugged and jerked, letting out a long groan as he came onto Dorian’s belly.

Aodhan sank against the other man, suddenly limp and exhausted, as Dorian took him into a sweat-stickied embrace.  Dorian’s lips on his forehead were tender, sweet.  “That was some kiss,” he said softly, still out of breath.

“Figured I’d make sure to get us a bit dirty before that bath,” said Aodhan drowsily.  

“A most excellent plan,” he murmured.  “Like coming out to Kirkwall for Kissing Day.  I take my hat off to you.”

Aodhan chuckled, wiggling against Dorian so that they were fully skin-to-skin.  “No, you took  _my_ hat off.”

“What is wrong with you?” Dorian proclaimed, sighing.  “Come on.  Let’s wash the stench of that dreadful joke off of you.”

They both let out moans of appreciation after they slipped into the tub.  Sure enough, the tub did fit two grown men, though it was close.  Water lapped at the walls, threatening to spill over the sides with every movement.   The scent of lavender filled the room from a little sachet Dorian had found in an herb stall, wrapped in oilskin to protect it from the rain.  It smelled heavenly.

Aodhan gazed up towards the window.  It was dark now, but he could still see condensation, and now steam, on the glass; he could still hear rain hitting the cobblestones.  

For a moment they simply enjoyed the hot bath, the way it removed every last bit of lingering chill from their muscles, the bright scent of the lavender, the way their legs tangled beneath the water.

“The world really is different, now, isn’t it,” said Aodhan quietly.

“How do you mean?”

“We spent an entire day at a celebration for lovers and families,” said Aodhan.  “Two mages.  Two men.  Freely walking together out in the rain, no templars over our shoulder.”

“No potential future wives to make nice to,” said Dorian.  He smiled fondly, proudly.  “No calls of public indecency when you kissed me at the fountain.”

Aodhan cupped Dorian’s cheek, leaving rivulets of water behind.  “Weren’t the flowers floating on the water beautiful?  Even in the rain.”

“They were beautiful,” Dorian agreed.  “Though I was a bit distracted by watching you instead. You dance marvelously.”

Aodhan grinned.  “Always with the flattery.”

“Only when it’s deserved.”

“So what do you think?” Aodhan asked.  “Shall we try to do it again next year?”

“I’d rather celebrate Kissing Day on a daily basis,” said Dorian, doing just that.  This kiss was quiet, gentle, soft; lingering.  “But if you mean, would I like to get away from the world with you – for just a little while – the answer is yes.  Always yes, amatus.”  

“Good,” said Aodhan simply, and he closed his eyes, listening to the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [thesecondsealwrites](http://thesecondsealwrites.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for the awesome tradition of Kirkwall's Kissing Day!


End file.
